


maybe this time's the charm

by were1993



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - College/University, Awkward Flirting, M/M, Romantic Comedy, a part of it is fate but a larger part is choice, not quite misunderstandings but rather stubbornness and emotions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24104989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/were1993/pseuds/were1993
Summary: five times seungcheol tries to ask minghao out and the one time he (finally) does.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Xu Ming Hao | The8, side pairings: wonhui & jigyu
Comments: 12
Kudos: 65
Collections: Seventeen Rare Pair Fest: Round 1





	1. 那些年 (Those Bygone Years)

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SVTRarePairFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SVTRarePairFest) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> five times seungcheol tries to ask minghao out and the one time he (finally) does

pt. 1: 那些年 (Those Bygone Years)

\---

那些年错过的大雨

_Those bygone years of heavy rain_

\----

February is still _very_ cold.

Choi Seungcheol shoves his hands underneath his armpits to warm his freezing fingers. He hasn’t survived 17 winters without knowing the idiocy of running out into the snow without a few layers, but he decided his pride cometh before health.

Seungcheol only had one more week until graduation. He only needed to keep up his cool and collected upperclassman image for a couple more days so he could graduate with people remembering the awesome soccer captain he is.

“Choi Seungcheol!”

He curses quietly under his breath as he hears the ominous calls of his name. Seungcheol sprints across the field, ignoring the mud that squished underneath his shoes. Reaching the adjacent building, he flings open the door and stomps the mud off on the entrance mat quickly. The senior looks around and wonders where he should hide. He never hangs out in the studio arts building so—

“Seungcheol!”

Seungcheol catapults himself towards the stairs to put as much distance between him and his pursuer. Jeonghan has never been able to overpower him physically, but his best friend doesn’t need to raise a pinky for Seungcheol to resign to his fate. His best bet is to just avoid Jeonghan until whatever scheme he’s entertaining passes. 

“ _Choi Seungcheol!_ ”

Although, this time was genuinely Seungcheol’s fault. He admitted he had nursed a crush on their team manager for almost a year, and Jeonghan was close friends with her. Seungcheol forgot to mention that he was already over his crush and considers her a close confidant now. Instead of just telling Jeonghan honestly, he felt bad that his friend went through all the trouble to help him organize an event so Seungcheol chose an easier route—he ran.

Seungcheol slams his foot onto the last step onto the third floor and pauses to catch his breath. He looks carefully down the hallway towards the stairs on the other end. Jeonghan is lazy but he’s fast when he wants to be. As he peeks around the corner, Seungcheol sees a sign: _Year 1 Art Exhibition_ _Open_.

The senior has never gone to any of the art exhibits during his time at school. Art has never really been his thing, and he had been too busy with soccer anyways. But with the final days of his high school career looming over him, Seungcheol throws up his hands and decides to take a look. Why not? There’s nothing to lose. Gives him more excuses to be loitering around than go face Jeonghan.

Seungcheol walks into the classroom they redecorated for the exhibit and nods a quick hello to a fellow senior classmate sitting at the door— _Oh hey, sorry, most of the kids went to grab lunch but feel free to look around_. Instead of rows of desks, tall folding boards sectioned the classroom into different mini exhibits.

From his spot, Seungcheol could look down one section with hanging paper creations and a projector casting moving color on the white paper. He’s intrigued and moves toward the shifting colors.

At that moment, the senior catches something move in his peripheral vision. He turns and immediately stops in his tracks.

While the painting on the wall is pretty—a gradient of blues with splashes of bright reds and yellows along the bottom like a flower garden suspended in the sky, Seungcheol can’t stop staring at the figure in front of it.

His back looks so small with the large canvas engulfing him in the blues of an abstract sky. His blonde curls bounce as he sways back and forth on the balls of his feet. As stupid as it sounds, Seungcheol thinks he’s watching a flower fluttering in the wind. The dynamic installation for that piece of art.

Lost in his appreciation, Seungcheol trips over absolutely nothing, stumbling forward towards the unknown boy.

Startled, the boy turns around quickly with his eyes blown wide in alarm.

“Hi,” Seungcheol greets weakly with a sheepish smile.

“Hello,” the boy greets back quietly. He brings his hands together in front of him and casts his eyes to the floor. “How are you?”

“Uh, great,” Seungcheol answers eloquently. He walks forward with much more bravado than he felt. “Did you, uh, paint this?”

The freshman perks up and nods, “My painting. My painting too.”

He points to a picture next to the blue sky. This one is a dark night sky with a bright yellow moon almost the same shade as his bleached hair. Now that Seungcheol is standing closer, he sees the paint textures on the canvas, creating another dimension to the pretty mix of colors. He doesn’t understand a thing about art, but he likes the calmness that settles in his heart.

“They’re really pretty,” Seungcheol compliments sincerely. The freshman smiles shyly and looks down at his fidgeting hands. “I can’t say I really look at art? Observe art? See? I don’t even know the right phrase. An art noob. But I do think your sky paintings are very pretty.”

“Skies are pretty,” the freshman agrees. 

Seungcheol leans closer and pretends to read the artist's statement. He really just wants to get the other’s name.

_Seo Myungho, Year 1 Class 3_

“Uh, Seo Myungho was it?” Seungcheol asks, turning to address the other and catches the other staring. Avoiding his eyes, Myungho flushes pink and picks at the end of his sweater vest.

“Yeah,” Myungho answers, nodding quickly. “My name.”

“Um,” Seungcheol begins, but he hesitates. He’s literally graduating at the end of the week. It’s a little late to be trying to get to know someone.

“Yes?” Myungho questions, finally meeting Seungcheol’s eye. Seungcheol prays that he hasn't mistaken the hopeful look in the other’s eyes.

“Woah, uh, is it lunchtime already?” Seungcheol asks, looking back at the paintings. He thinks he’s blushing as well but he bulldozes through the embarrassment to force air of nonchalance. He’s a senior for goodness sakes! “I haven’t had lunch yet and, well, I’ve been meaning to swing by the snack stand. Down at the canteen. You know, the snack stand.”

The silence that follows is painful.

“Do you wanna—” Seungcheol begins again, turning to Myungho, but he catches the other’s panicked expression. The freshman seems to be looking everywhere but him, and Seungcheol feels a strange feeling sink into his stomach. “Oh no, I didn’t mean, uh, you don’t actually have to—uh, I’m sorry, please forget I said anything.”

“I, uh, I,” Myungho stutters.

“Your paintings are very pretty,” Seungcheol says with a bright smile. If he’s going to play the cool supportive senior, he might as well do it to the end. “I’m sure they’ll be in even larger exhibitions in the future.” 

“ _Deng deng_ —” Myungho begins, but Seungcheol has already turned to make a beeline to the exit.

“See you around!” Seungcheol says over his shoulder.

Seungcheol thinks he made a pretty cool exit. A mysterious senior who encourages a freshman before graduation. Yeah, a cool exit!

And if he walks into someone on his way out, well, Seungcheol isn’t going to admit to it.

\---

那些年错过的爱情

_Those bygone years of potential love_

_\---_

Wen Junhui watches the exchange in pure glee.

He had stepped out to buy lunch and walked in just in time to see Seungcheol stumble towards a startled Minghao.

While Junhui isn’t friends with Seungcheol, it’s hard to miss the soccer captain with his friendly smiles and playful demeanor. He’s pretty sure most of the school has a crush on Seungcheol, and Junhui is delighted to add Minghao to that list.

Junhui had just spent the entire morning watching Minghao gesturing to a couple of his classmates about the paintings— _they’re water pictures of the sky, not actually the sky, no, water pictures, Jun-ge, what word Korean for water pictures, yes, reflections!_ —and yet here Minghao was shyly agreeing with everything Seungcheol said.

The bashful way Minghao plays with the hem of his sweater vest is adorable, and Junhui wants to take a picture.

He almost bursts out in laughter when he hears Seungcheol suggesting that they go down to the canteen together. Junhui turns to Minki who is no longer at the door and puts his hands over his mouth to stifle his own mirth. Oh, _oh!_ How the young ones grow up to quickly to have romances of their own.

Minghao starts looking everywhere in a panic. Junhui flails to get his attention— _just nod, nodding is also universal!_ —but Minghao gives him an even more panicked expression with his hand coming up in a _what_?

Oh. Minghao didn’t understand what Seungcheol said.

Junhui tries to explain, miming eating with the plastic bag in his hands, but Minghao just looks more confused.

“…please forget I said anything.”

Junhui glares at Minghao and makes vaguely threatening gestures. He knows he’s not a very threatening person, but goodness, if Minghao doesn’t say anything—!

“I, uh, I.”

Not a great start. Junhui is about to intervene when he sees Seungcheol turning.

“等等—” _Wait—_

Junhui wasn’t going to try and block their soccer captain. At least, not when the senior was booking out of the room at full speed. Junhui doesn’t get out of the way fast enough and gets shoulder checked into one of the display boards.

By some miraculous force, Junhui doesn’t bring down the separators—or maybe it was the strength of his ankles. He regains his footing and laughs.

“小浩浩，什么情况? 好像很甜蜜哦. 哎呀，牙齿快甜掉了!” Junhui teases in rapid-fire. _Xiaohaohao, what was that? What a sweet atmosphere. Ouch, I have cavities now!_

“他是谁?” Minghao asks without any retort. _Who was that?_

Junhui wants to bug Minghao a little more, but this is the first time the younger didn’t roll his eyes at Junhui’s antics. Minghao hasn’t even looked at Junhui but rather his eyes are trained to the open door.

“He’s a third-year,” Junhui answers in Korean. He watches carefully as Minghao’s lips curve into a frown. “Choi Seungcheol. He’s the captain of the soccer team.”

“Third year,” Minghao echoes. “中三，快毕业了, 是吧?” _Third-year, he’s about to graduate, right?_

“这个星期,” Junhui answers. _This week._

Minghao doesn’t say anything, but the disappointment on his face is hard to mistake for anything else.

“年轻人啊,” Junhui sighs, ruffling the younger’s hair. “会有其他的.”

_Oh, young one, there will be others._

\---

好想拥抱你 / 拥抱错过的勇气 

_I really want to embrace you, unlike the courage, I let slip by._

\---


	2. Love Line (평행선)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four years later, they meet again.

pt. 2: Love Line (평행선)

\---

우린 참 다르지만 / 왜 이리 끌리는지

_We’re so different, but why am I so attracted to you?_

\---

Seungcheol hasn’t been to an art exhibition since high school.

He hasn’t been avoiding them on purpose—at least not consciously, Jeonghan teases, but Seungcheol really hasn’t had a reason to go. His last girlfriend wasn’t into arts, and none of his previous boyfriends cared for anything artistic beyond champion skins. 

His last experience at an art exhibition had been in an empty high school classroom surrounded by fabric dividers and multicolored pin tacks. Understandably, Seungcheol feels out of place in the auditorium with white walls, gallery lights, and waiters with champagne—or apple juice, Seungcheol can’t really tell. He’s too nervous to have a drink in hand so he politely refused every offer so far.

Seungcheol stands awkwardly in a corner like a lost child. He almost wants a glass of champagne-apple juice to hold so he doesn’t stick out like a sore thumb. Seungcheol tries to turn to the art piece next to him, but it’s just a loaf of French bread taped to the wall.

Seungcheol turns away and looks down at his faded dress shoes. He feels stupid. He just doesn’t get it.

“Should I give you an _I don’t want to be here_ sign?” Jeonghan asks, breaking Seungcheol from his thoughts. His friend offers him a flute of champagne-apple juice, and Seungcheol accepts it with relief—it’s plastic so no worry about it shattering. “I’ve never met someone so opposed to appreciating art.”

“Shut up,” Seungcheol mumbles. He takes a sip—it’s apple juice—and sighs. “Why are we even here? I’m not an artsy person and you’re even less so.”

“Excuse me, I take offense to that” Jeonghan says with a raised eyebrow. He waves at the bread taped to the wall. “I’ll have you know I understand the French bread on the wall perfectly. It’s a critique of idealizing industrialism as it pushes all of us to conformity and the capitalistic trap that keeps us from breaking away.”

Jeonghan taps a thoughtful finger to his chin and leans in to read the artist's statement.

“Or maybe it’s just about modern-day food processing,” Jeonghan shrugs. “I still think my interpretation was better.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Seungcheol says, cracking a smile.

He appreciates Jeonghan’s attempt to make him feel better, but at least, Jeonghan fits in. With his round fashion glasses and black turtle neck sweater, Jeonghan looks like he’s here to peruse fine art. Seungcheol ran over after his internship so he’s still in his crumpled button-up shirt with ink smudges bleeding into the bottom of his shirt pocket. He looks like some kid’s supportive but late parent.

“We’re here for Seokmin,” Jeonghan reminds. “You missed the opening reception, but at least you could have walked around to try and find us.”

Guess tonight he _is_ some kid’s supportive but late parent.

“Sorry,” Seungcheol apologizes. He fiddles with the plastic flute. “I just didn’t even know where to go.”

“There are people walking around who could have helped you out? They’re kind of easy to spot in all black with name tags?” Jeonghan teases. He turns and uses a head tilt to get Seungcheol to follow. “If you walked just a little farther in, you would have _heard_ Seokmin.”

“—it’s not _that good_.”

“A masterpiece!”

“And Soonyoung for that matter,” Jeonghan says dryly, and Seungcheol laughs. As they get closer, Seungcheol sees the small group—Seokmin, Soonyoung, Seungkwan, and Jisoo—standing around a painting. Jeonghan skips towards their friends. “Found old man Choi!”

“Hey!” Seungcheol yells. His voice echoes in the gallery, and Seungcheol freezes in place. His eyes dart around the gallery. Oh crap, people are staring at him. _Ah fuck_ , he’s always known he’d make a stupid fool out of himself—

“Choi Seungcheol?”

“Yes?!” Seungcheol whips around and barely keeps the apple juice from spilling. He blurts out an apology when the other person steps back.

“No, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!”

“I’m usually not this—” Seungcheol begins but all the words die on his tongue as he looks up.

The first word that comes to mind when he finally gets to look at the stranger is _beautiful_. Dark hair frames his face with bangs falling just below his eyes, and his eyes are glimmering under the gallery’s lighting. His entire face is soft—round nose, the gentle curve of his cheeks, and small but full lips.

The stranger is all dressed in black. His satin top is just large enough to drape down the front he’s tucked in and his dark jeans make his legs go on for miles before pulling Seungcheol back down to earth with his polished pointy toe dress shoes. The silver wide frame glasses just give an extra sense of sophistication.

Seungcheol glances down at his own dirty shoes and quickly shuffles the one with most smudges behind as casually as he could. Why does he look like a mess today of all days?

“You’re fine,” the stranger laughs. “I was actually more worried that I made a mistake.”

Seungcheol pauses—that’s right, who was this stranger who knows his name? Looking up, he notices a name tag on the other’s shirt.

_Seo Myungho_

_Event Coordinator_

“It’s been four years so I wasn’t sure,” Myungho says. He looks down with a shy smile, and it hits Seungcheol like a ton of bricks. Suddenly, he sees the overlay of a nervous freshman with blond curls against a blue sky filled with flowers. “You haven’t changed much.”

“You have,” Seungcheol says before he could stop himself. “You look, uh, you look great.”

“You do too,” Myungho responds. His eyes widen in realization. “I mean, you always have so I didn’t mean you haven’t changed in a bad way.”

“Oh,” Seungcheol squeaks. He clears his throat— _be a functional adult, dammit_. “Wow, it has been a long time. So, uh, do you have any pieces here tonight?”

“Not tonight,” Myungho smiles. “This event is for the introductory art classes. I’m just here to help coordinate and make sure everything runs smoothly.”

Four years really changes people, Seungcheol thinks. Myungho even stands differently—he stands tall with his shoulders squared but relaxed. Myungho is comfortable and confident. This is his space, he’s proud of it, and he doesn’t let others question it. Not that Seungcheol would even dare.

“Cool,” Seungcheol says quickly. He realizes he had just been staring when normal people would continue the conversation. “Fantastic even. Not that you don’t have a piece up tonight but that you’re managing things now too. It’s really cool.”

“Thanks,” Myungho laughs. His laughter is a little airy, but it fits. “It’s different for sure.”

“I’m actually surprised you even remember me,” Seungcheol says, scratching the back of his head. “It’s really been years.”

“Hey Myungho,” another coordinator interrupts, tapping on the younger’s shoulder to get his attention. “The French bread is falling again. I wouldn’t be asking you to do this, but if even you can’t get it to stick to the wall, I think Professor Yi might let up.” 

“I’ll be there,” Myungho nods before turning back to Seungcheol. “Sorry, I think, uh.”

“Don’t let me keep you from doing your job!” Seungcheol insists.

“You’re not,” Myunghao says. His lips press into a thin line and his brows furrow. Minghao takes a deep breath before continuing. “The year you graduated I had just come to Korea. My Korean was super limited, and I wasn’t comfortable talking to anyone. But you were very nice. You tried to make conversation with me about my art even though I couldn’t understand much.”

Seungcheol stares dumbly. What.

“I’ve always meant to thank you,” Myungho admits. “But I never got the chance before you graduated.”

Seungcheol’s brain desperately digs at the cold day in high school where he fumbled at the freshman art exhibition— _he catches the other’s panicked expression. The freshman seems to be looking everywhere but him_ —and he realizes four years too late. Or maybe just in time?

“Uh, Myungho, by any chance would you—” Seungcheol tries to ask, but he’s interrupted by someone calling Myungho’s name. This time, the person is an older lady who must be one of the professor’s if the look on Myungho’s face was any indication

“It’s great to see you again,” Myungho says. He automatically looks to the voice that called out his name again but immediately returns his gaze to Seungcheol. “And thank you for your kindness all those years ago.”

Seungcheol doesn’t get to say anything before Myungho turns away. He considers running after the younger, but Myungho is already halfway across the room. Seungcheol watches the loaf of French bread slowly tilt out of the confines of the tape and decides against it.

He stands in the middle of the gallery, watching Myungho and a couple of others fix the bread taped on the wall. He really doesn’t get art, but he knows how awkward and possibly creepy he looks with his plastic cup of apple juice. 

“Cheol, I didn’t know you knew Myungho?”

Seungcheol jumps, but he knows that voice.

“Hong Jisoo! Why are you—?” Seungcheol hisses, turning around just to see the other’s gentle smile.

“Just asking a question,” Jisoo shrugs. The corner of his lips tugs into a mischievous curl. “How do you know Myungho?”

“None of your business,” Seungcheol sulks. He puts the plastic flute to his lips and tips back the apple juice. Seungcheol doesn’t know how many more times he’s going to be startled tonight so he figures the less liquid he’s holding, the better off everyone in the gallery will be.

“What’s none of our business?” Jeonghan asks, popping up between them and scaring Seungcheol mid-drink. He chokes loudly and some of the apple juice dribbles down his chin—which, unfortunately, lands on his button-up shirt. Seungcheol should have known third time’s the charm, and it would come at the hands of Yoon Jeonghan.

“Just asking how he knows Seo Myungho,” Jisoo explains. Seungcheol never likes how Jeonghan and Jisoo share looks. It never bodes well for him. “I didn’t think Seungcheol has gotten the chance to meet our more art-focused friends.”

“Seo Myungho?” Jeonghan repeats. He gives Seungcheol a pointed look. Seungcheol tenses—ah crap, Jeonghan remembers. “Seo Myungho from high school? The freshman kid?”

“High school?” Jisoo chimes in.

“Joshuaji, I keep forgetting you didn’t go to high school with us,” Jeonghan says. He drapes his arms around both Seungcheol and Jisoo, slowly turning them to walk to wear the rest of the group is still chatting. “Unlike now, our dear Cheollie used to be so popular and social in high school.”

Seungcheol sighs and doesn’t even bother to retort. He plays with the empty plastic cup in his hands sadly.

Will it be another four years until he sees Seo Myungho again?

\---

머리론 이해해도 / 말로는 설명 못해

_I can understand with my head, but I can’t explain with words_

\---

Jeonghan watches the interaction with a little bit of amusement.

He thinks he recognizes the dark-haired art student—Seokmin’s Chinese friend, Minho or Yeongho or something who introduced to oil painting as a good and easy class to take—and Jeonghan really wants to know how Seungcheol knows him.

Seungcheol took time off after their first year in college to enlist and then ran headfirst into work internships afterward. It took quite a toll on his friend's social life at school, but Jeonghan was determined to pull his friend to as many events as possible.

He originally decided on the art exhibition tonight because it felt like a safe group of people to start introducing Seungcheol to. They knew Soonyoung growing up, Joshua was one of their freshman year friends, Seungkwan is friendly with most people, and Seokmin is friendly with everyone. A safe enough mix of friends and friends of friends.

What he didn’t expect was for someone to call out to Seungcheol and even less for Seungcheol to be so, for the lack of a better word, bashful. Jeonghan knows his friend can get a little shy, but _this_ level of hand fidgeting, toe-tapping, and head-scratching could only mean one thing.

“I didn’t know Myungho and Seungcheol knew each other,” Joshua says casually, placing a hand on Jeonghan’s shoulder. He does it discretely enough so the younger group keeps chatting away, praising Seokmin for his fruit bowl painting. “I thought Seungcheol wasn’t an art person.”

“Couldn’t they have taken a class together?” Jeonghan asks.

“Myungho tends to keep to the art department,” Joshua answers. “Unless Seungcheol took for art history for fun, I doubt they’d have cross paths.”

“How do you know him then?”

“Took a pottery class together,” Joshua shrugs. “He’s great with paint and charcoal, anything with a canvas, but Myungho is a little too, ah, avant-garde for making flower vases and bowls.”

“Storytime?” Jeonghan asks, but Joshua shakes his head.

“More interested in _that_ story,” Joshua says, tilting his head towards Seungcheol and Myungho.

“Why don’t you go ask him then?” Jeonghan suggests. Myungho sounds familiar, but Jeonghan doesn’t know why.

“I always do your dirty work,” Joshua teases, and Jeonghan shrugs the other’s hand off his shoulder in mock-annoyance. They watch Myungho get called away and Seungcheol continues to stand there, seemingly staring after Myungho. “Maybe I will ask.”

“Go do my dirty work,” Jeonghan demands, shoving the other forward. He’s met with a wide-eyed look of shock— _did you just push me_ , but Joshua keeping walking forward towards their target, er, friend.

Jeonghan waits. He admits there’s a little mischief when he jumps into the conversation just as his friend chugs his apple juice.

“What’s none of our business?” Jeonghan asks, patting Seungcheol’s back as he sputters.

“Just asking how he knows Seo Myungho,” Joshua answers. Jeonghan’s eyes flicker to Joshua’s— _you never told me his full name_ —and Joshua raises an eyebrow— _why does it matter?_ “I didn’t think Seungcheol has gotten the chance to meet our more art-focused friends.”

“Seo Myungho?” Jeonghan echoes. He knows that name and stares at Seungcheol for confirmation. Ah, it is. “Seo Myungho from high school? The freshman kid?”

“High school?” Joshua questions.

“Joshuaji, I keep forgetting you didn’t go to high school with us,” Jeonghan says. He purposefully drapes his arms around his friends to turn and walk them towards the rest of their group. He squeezes Joshua’s shoulder gently— _later_. “Unlike now, our dear Cheollie used to be so popular and social in high school.”

They both were expecting a reaction from Seungcheol, but he’s quiet instead. Seungcheol greets the rest of their friends without his usual bright smile. He doesn’t join the conversation for more than a comment or two. Jeonghan watches with growing concern as Seungcheol keeps himself on the outer edge of their circle of friends, looking away sadly.

It doesn’t take very long to realize Seungcheol had been stealing glances at Myungho as the younger art student walks around helping guests and chatting with his friends.

“Alright, you guys are just embarrassing me now,” Seokmin says deadpan. His cheeks and ears are bright red from the praise Soonyoung and Seungkwan keep laying on him. “Let’s actually go check out the rest of the gallery!”

“But this masterpiece is a modern Picasso!” Soonyoung declares. Seungkwan rolls his eyes dramatically, but his smile is all sorts of fond. “Monet! Van Gogh! Da Vinci!”

“You actually know a thing or two about art,” Seokmin says visibly impressed while Seungkwan scoffs— _he just listed the_ only _things he knows about art_.

Jeonghan nudges Joshua gently to get his attention and uses his eyes to point out Seungcheol. Joshua nods.

“Let’s go check out the rest of the gallery and see if they have any more snacks,” Joshua suggests to the group. Seokmin is quick to agree, dragging Soonyoung along with him. Seungkwan follows behind them. “Hannie? Cheol?”

“Uh, I think I’m going to find a place to sit down,” Seungcheol says, stretching his neck. “It’s been a long day. Are we going to dinner after this?”

“That was the plan,” Joshua answers.

“Okay, I’ll stay for dinner but I’ve been on my feet all day so,” Seungcheol says. “I think there were chairs or benches out front.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jeonghan says. “It’ll be nice to sit down.”

“You didn’t do anything today,” Joshua teases, laughing when Jeonghan glares. “I’ll make sure the kids don’t eat the bread on the wall or something.”

“You’d probably be the one to suggest it,” Seungcheol says dryly. Joshua shrugs but doesn’t deny it. “Alright, let’s find a bench or something.”

As they walk to the exit, Jeonghan sweeps the gallery quickly for a dark-haired art student. He catches Myungho out of the corner of his eye—watching them. Jeonghan purposefully slows his steps, whining for Seungcheol to stop walking so fast.

Jeonghan grabs two more flutes of apple juice and convinces Seungcheol to finish it before leaving. He keeps glancing at the group of art students—Myungho is completely angled away from his friends and looking over at them repeatedly. Jeonghan tries to engage Seungcheol in casual small talk just to stall and see whether the art student would come over.

Myungho takes a hesitant step towards them.

Jeonghan wonders if he needs to ditch Seungcheol for the other to come over, but before he could make up his mind, their friends walk up to them.

“Oh? Shua-hyung said you two went to find someplace to sit?” Seungkwan asks.

“Let’s just go sit at the restaurant then,” Seokmin suggests in relief. “I’m starving!”

Jeonghan casually turns while stretching. He’s disappointed to see Myungho’s back turned to them. He faces forward again but can’t really read Seungcheol’s expression beyond weariness.

As meddlesome as he prides himself to be, there’s only so much Jeonghan can do without Seungcheol explicitly saying anything. He sighs and lets it go.

\---

너와 난 평행선 그 위를 따로 걷다 / 그 길 끝에서 함께할 길을 찾아

_We’re walking separately on parallel lines but, in the end, we will find a path to be together._

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's where the story reALLY starts /eyes 
> 
> Enjoy! Please let me know what you think!
> 
> As always, do take care of yourself and your loved ones. Eat well, rest well, and be well.


	3. i’m so tired…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe third time's the charm?

pt. 3: i’m so tired…

\---

_I'm so tired of love songs, tired of love songs / Tired of love songs, tired of love_

\---

Seungcheol doesn’t know why he’s sulking. Okay, that’s a lie. He doesn’t want to admit why he’s sulking.

He doesn’t react when his champion kneels over and the screen goes gray. Seungcheol slouches down into his chair, staring listlessly at the timer. Someone is yelling at him through his headset but none of it registers. He doesn’t have the energy to get angry. There’s no adrenaline rush from the game. Seungcheol does feel a little bad when he hears Wonwoo clicking away and slamming his mouse a little harder than usual.

The game ends before he respawns. Wonwoo sighs loudly. His chair squeaks with the other’s full weight, and Seungcheol winces at the clatter of a headset being thrown against the keyboard. 

“Hyung, please take a break,” Wonwoo says. His voice is flat, but Seungcheol hears the simmering frustration. “I really want to rank up this weekend. I don’t want to be yelling at you when you’re already upset.”

“I’m not upset,” Seungcheol retorts automatically. There’s no bite in his tone or his posture or, well, anywhere.

Wonwoo turns in his chair and just stares. Seungcheol looks down, avoiding direct eye contact.

Originally, Seungcheol hadn’t meant to room with Wonwoo. It had been more of a temporary living arrangement until Seungcheol found something for himself. Yet, as school work and his internship ate away at his time, Seungcheol just stayed. What ended up sealing the deal was when they rearranged the room for their gaming set up.

Jeon Wonwoo is a good roommate—considerate and compromising, and Seungcheol only feels more embarrassed about his sulking. 

“You don’t have to play with me,” Seungcheol says, feeling a little more defensive. “Go solo.”

“Sighing loudly and then staring at me with sad eyes really tells me I should do my own thing,” Wonwoo says dryly. Seungcheol pretends to fiddle with his main menu, but he’s just clicking tabs at random. “Hyung, if gaming isn’t distracting you from whatever is bothering you, either figure out how to resolve the problem or find a better distraction.”

“You just want to kick me out of the house,” Seungcheol grumbles. He pushes away from the table and leans back. He forgets about his headset. The audio jack pops out of its socket with a loud sound. “Ah, crap.” 

“I have better resources to do that,” Wonwoo warns.

“Ah yes, your boyfriend,” Seungcheol snorts.

“I did promise Junnie access to our kitchen,” Wonwoo hums, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Hm, he still has a packet of those stinky noodles here…”

“No,” Seungcheol says firmly. He barely lived through the last Stinky Noodle Situation, and he had returned almost an hour afterward.

“You could go grocery shopping,” Wonwoo shrugs. He puts his headset back on. “And I might be able to convince him to make something else.”

“Why does he have to come over to use our kitchen anyways?” Seungcheol asks, swiveling in his chair unhappily. “He’s got a kitchen at his place.”

“You speak as though we use our kitchen beyond the microwave and refrigerator,” Wonwoo says, clicking through the game menu leisurely. “It’s your turn to get groceries anyway.”

“Couldn’t you have just said that instead of threatening me?” Seungcheol asks. He stores his headset away with unnatural care, taking his time to wrap the wires.

“Jun barely counts as a threat,” Wonwoo says, stretching his fingers as he waits for his match up. “Get me a drink too?”

“Why can’t we just order online?” Seungcheol asks. He gets up and searches for his phone.

“Because you need to take a walk to clear your head,” Wonwoo answers. “Preferably farther than the 7-11 downstairs.”

“Yes, yes, mother, what did you want?” Seungcheol asks. He pulls on an unworn pair of sweats and tries to look for socks. “Your drink?”

“Milk tea. Get the one with blue packaging.”

“Milk tea? You don’t drink— _oh_ , making me buy drinks for your boyfriend,” Seungcheol says in mock annoyance. He gives up on the socks and steps into his shoes. “I’m buying seafood everything.”

“Heard seafood goes great with snail noodles,” Wonwoo answers.

“Why is everything a threat?” Seungcheol grumbles. “Did you need anything else?”

“It’s on the list! Thanks!” calls Wonwoo as Seungcheol opens their front door to leave.

“Seafood everything!” Seungcheol yells back before closing the door harder than he needs to. Ah, he spent all his time bickering with Wonwoo that he forgot to grab the grocery list—it’s just a post-it on the cabinet that they write food items they want.

Swallowing his pride, he goes back inside and faces Wonwoo’s laughter. Seungcheol slams the door for a second time.

The walk to the grocery store is slow as he drags his steps, and probably just as Wonwoo hoped, it gave him time to think. Seungcheol knows he sulking over what happened at the art gallery a week ago. And he knows he’s being stupid about it.

Meeting Myungho at the gallery that night was undeniably fate—at least in Seungcheol’s mind, but being interrupted once again was also fate. Fate dictating that Seungcheol was going to see Myungho once every four years, and every time, Seungcheol will be left with what-ifs and never-to-be’s.

He’s absolutely being overdramatic. The night at the gallery was nothing like four years ago.

Now, Seungcheol knows Seo Myungho is an art student at his college. They have a lot more mutual friends than he originally thought. Seungcheol also just learned that his roommate’s boyfriend, Moon Junhui, had gone to their high school and is fast friends with Myungho.

The possibilities to reconnect are endless. Yet here he is, doing nothing.

Seungcheol blames Disney movies and the entire shoujo genre for his stubbornness. A part of him wants to see whether he and Myungho are meant to be. Whether they’ll meet again just by chance—bump into each other on campus, scrambling to pick up fallen papers when their hands touch, or maybe accidentally cross paths on the Han River just as the sunset casts a romantic, golden hue over the water—and things just work out.

Another more logical part of him is yelling to just ask Jisoo or Seokmin or even Wonwoo to ask Junhui to invite Myungho along to a friendly get together.

Just do _something_ , his logical brain screams.

But what if _it’s not meant to be_ , his romantic heart whines.

Seungcheol sighs with his entire chest. He gazes off into the sunset—oh, was it that late already, a whole day wasted—and stops in the middle of the street until someone pushes past him with an angry curse.

Seungcheol is about to trudge on when he realizes he’s overshot the grocery store. He pulls out his phone, mimes checking for directions on his lock screen, and doubles back. He rushes through the automatic doors and gives up his ruse as the burst of cold air welcoming him in. Seungcheol hit a new low for the day: pretending to be lost in his own neighborhood.

He grabs a handbasket and tries to focus on his task. Groceries, he’s here for groceries. He fishes out the post-it from his pocket.

_ramyeong – shin or samyang_

_1 spoon, chopstick_

_roasted seaweed (10 pk)_

_alcohol, choi sungcheol is the best ~~~~_

Seungcheol squints. One spoon and one, he assumes, pair of chopsticks. Why would they need just one spoon and, _oh_ , it’s for Junhui. He’s being ousted already, and he still has seven months on their housing contract. Seungcheol makes up his mind to give Wonwoo one singular chopstick—and then give the other one to Junhui because Seungcheol isn’t heartless.

He takes the long way around the store, walking through the fresh vegetable and meat sections. He even stops at the live seafood, staring at the fish swimming about until the employee starts giving him weird looks.

Seungcheol’s not sure what he’s doing, but there’s something calming about wandering around the store, slipping in and out of aisles. He gets to ponder the true questions in life: do they need tissue paper or maybe a stainless steel three tier steamer? He doesn’t need to think about his cowardice, his stubbornness, or his non-existent connection with Seo Myungho who is currently scrutinizing the rice crackers.

Seungcheol stares down the snack aisle and rubs his eyes. Nope, he’s still there.

Is that even Myungho? He squints—dark hair, check; pretty hands, check; long neck, che— _ah shit, don’t look up please_ , yep, that is the three-quarter profile of Seo Myungho.

To be honest, Myungho isn’t wearing anything that notable: a color-blocked windbreak, black sweats, and a dark cap. Yet Seungcheol could see the younger posing for some strange grocery store streetwear photoshoot. Myungho looks fresh out of the gym, and Seungcheol can’t deny the younger looks cool, running a hand through his damp locks and casually pushing his hair back into his cap. Seungcheol looks terrible after working out so, once again, the universe has proven to be unfair.

Seungcheol pauses. Or maybe the universe isn’t _that_ unfair. They did say third time's the charm.

“Hey, Myungho, is that you?” Seungcheol calls in a fit of bravery. He marches down the aisle with purpose.

Myungho looks in his direction and freezes. Seungcheol isn’t sure whether that was a good sign or not.

“It’s me, Seungcheol,” Seungcheol says. Immediately, he wants to facepalm. What kind of cartoon villain greeting is that? “Choi Seungcheol. From high school. And the gallery last week.”

“Hello,” Myungho greets, waving a tentative hand. “I remember.”

“What a coincidence, meeting here at the grocery store,” Seungcheol continues, trying to fast forward through the small talk. “What’s are you buying?”

“Just some snacks,” Myungho says. He fidgets with the phone in his hand, glancing at the screen. 

“Cool,” Seungcheol says. He tries to find a good segue into his desired topic, but nothing clever comes to mind. Unable to stand the awkward silence, Seungcheol decides to go for it. “So Myungho, by any chance, would you like to—”

“I have to go,” Myungho interrupts. He pulls his cap down to cover his eyes and takes a step back. “Sorry, let’s catch up next time.”

Seungcheol doesn’t know how to react when Myungho turns and speed walks out of the aisle. His brain goes haywire trying to come up with excuses—maybe someone’s waiting for him, maybe he’s got an important engagement, maybe he heard someone calling him to tape up a loaf of bread! But his heart slowly sinks into his stomach.

Seungcheol hoists the handbasket into the crook of his elbow and types into the first group chat on his messenger: _Let’s drink tonight. I’ll buy._

Third time’s the charm, and it ended with Myungho running away from him.

\---

_Somebody cover up my ears / Somebody save me from my heart / Somebody take me far from here / And rip the speakers out my car_

\---

Wonwoo takes a sip of his beer and watches Seungcheol not do the same for the past hour. From his chair, he’s got an elevated vantage point—Jihoon is sitting cross-legged on the floor and Seungcheol is slouched on the couch.

For someone who called everyone to drink, Seungcheol has barely had any of his. Without his glasses, Wonwoo can’t tell whether the elder even opened his can. Either way, Seungcheol hasn’t done much of anything since he came back from the grocery store. Holding his can of beer, he just makes half-hearted noises of acknowledgment towards whoever’s talking.

Currently, a tipsy Jihoon is going on a rampage about how stupidly perfect his roommate is.

“He cooks, he cleans, he fixes _everything_ ,” Jihoon whines, waving his arms up in exasperation. He pauses with his hands still in the air and stares up at the ceiling. “Well, he should ‘cause he’s the one who breaks most of it. But still, he’s so damn tall, you’d think that he could have shared some of it with us normal-sized people. And his _face_ —”

“Sorry I’m late,” Hansol calls from the doorway. The youngest kicks off his shoes and shuffles into the main room. “Had a group project meeting that ran late. Did anyone buy snacks? Haven’t had dinner yet.”

“We have snacks,” Jihoon says loudly, reaching for the bag of dried shredded squid and shaking it. He looks up at Hansol but doesn’t offer the bag, hugging it to his chest instead. “You wanna to order something?” 

“Almost had a moment of drunken truth there,” Wonwoo teases, poking Jihoon with his foot. “Something about his face?”

“His face is ugly,” Jihoon retorts but almost immediately walks it back. “His face isn’t ugly.”

“Who, Mingyu-hyung?” Hansol asks. He shrugs off his backpack and settles down on the floor.

“Who else?” Wonwoo snorts. Jihoon shoves at his leg, and Wonwoo lets the force spin him in his chair. “So why did your project meeting go for so long?”

“Ah, it’s nothing big,” Hansol answers, accepting the beer Jihoon tosses at him. “Myungho-hyung—I think you all know him, right? Art student, mullet?—well, he was supposed to go buy snacks for the group but came back empty-handed.”

Wonwoo sees Seungcheol sit up on the couch. Huh.

“But why did that make your meeting go late?” Jihoon asks.

“We got some, well, _personalities_ in our group this time,” Hansol says with both his eyebrows raised. “So this little thing ruined their entire day.”

“Did someone get snacks in the end?” Wonwoo asks.

“Yeah, we grabbed something from the convenience store,” Hansol answers, popping open the can tab. “Apparently, Myungho-hyung got embarrassed or something? Said something about looking like crap after exercising. Not sure who he was trying to impress at the grocery store.”

“But he looked great,” Seungcheol says. Hansol gives the eldest an incredulous look— _how would you know_? “Uh, I mean, most guys look great while working out, right? So, I mean, afterward, uh, you feel the most confident, right?”

“That’s not what you said last time I dragged you to the gym,” Jihoon says, chewing on a piece of squid.

“Well, _other_ guys look good after a good work out,” Seungcheol insists, crossing his arms. “So I’m sure Myungho impressed everyone at the grocery store.”

Hansol still looks confused so Wonwoo gestures at all the alcohol and snacks on the floor. The younger’s mouth opens into an _ah_.

“Not that I’ve seen him like that or anything,” Seungcheol continues, flushing pink and sinking deeper into the couch. “I’m sure he hypothetically and actually looks fine after he works out—”

“Eat something,” Jihoon says, throwing the bag of shredded squid at Seungcheol. “You’re drunk.”

Wonwoo laughs. Oh, Seungheol is drunk alright. Just not on alcohol.

\---

_Just wanna go home, wanna go home / Wanna go home, whoa_

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'cause good things happened at work and i managed to tidy up this chp in my elation LMAO i had most of this done previously so, unfortunately, the next chp won't be out this quickly but hopefully, you enjoy~
> 
> Enjoy! Please let me know what you think!
> 
> As always, do take care of yourself and your loved ones. Eat well, rest well, and be well.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for giving cheolhao a chance~ can you believe that cheolhao started out as a bit of joke for me? of course, jokes on me and I now have a HUGE soft spot for cheolhao XD
> 
> this fic was supposed to be rather short LMAO a 5+1 where each section was about 500 words-ish. but then literally a week before submission, I decided to change course with this fic and here we have this instead LMAO
> 
> Enjoy! Please let me know what you think!
> 
> As always, do take care of yourself and your loved ones. Eat well, rest well, and be well.


End file.
